


Episode IX: The Force Aligns

by TheEverShipping



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, But If They Did There Would Be No Movies Because They Wouldn't Be Fucking Up Everywhere, Canon Compliant, Everyone Should Just Listen To Yoda, F/M, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Leia LIVES!, Philosophy, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-TLJ, Rating will go up, Reylo - Freeform, Slow Burn, Someday there will be smut, Space Virgins, These Space Babies Are Smart And Talk About What's Actually Happening In Their World, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Everyone But Poe Because Who Would Believe That Man Is A Virgin?, Virgin Finn, Virgin Kylo Ren, Virgin Rey, that said, virgin rose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-22 00:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEverShipping/pseuds/TheEverShipping
Summary: "Oh lovely," Hux grins. He points the blaster right at Rey.Kylo attempts to reroute the blast with his mind... But it doesn't work. And Rey doesn't have a light saber and her attention is on the storm troopers who have captured her useless friends and--He jumps in front of the blast, deflecting it with his blade. She spins around, her eyes wide. He meets them for but a blink, then they're back to back, his fury focused on his true enemy.Hux is shocked. Then he's cackling, "Oh I see… I always had a feeling there was more to the story of how Supreme Leader Snoke died."Post-TLJ Canon Compliant. Reylo.





	1. Now

_That's the end, then. The last time,_ he'd thought, staring up at her, the invisible wind blowing in her hair, her eyes on his—full of sadness and anger, like _he_ was the one who had betrayed her. All he could do was look up at her, feeling her close herself away, just like she’d closed the door to his father’s ship. He’d been so sure that was the end.

Five days later he sees her.

He's sitting in a palace on Coruscant, going over Snoke's tangled web of financing. Well, Hux is going over it. He is only there to make Hux think he's paying attention so Hux doesn't get any usurping ideas. After all, of the many things he’d learned from Snoke, the most important was to never trust your underlings.

Rey appears in between the closing and opening of his eyes. He's staring at data lines and, literally in the blink of an eye, she's there, jumping around, violently thrusting at something he cannot see with her staff. The snarl on her face leads him to believe she had to be fighting someone and he feels this irrational instantaneous fear grip him.

Then she lets her staff fall and her body bends in half. She pushes her hips up into the air and is stretching to touch her toes. She doesn't quite make it all the way, and, quite against his will, he feels the corner of his mouth tug up.

In those few seconds before she notices him, he watches the beautiful contortions of her muscles, the way her skin glistens… He wonders, for the umpteenth time, why he can see things like her staff and her clothes, but not the ground she steps on. Loose strands of hair flutter and he isn't sure if he actually feels wind, or just imagines the feeling.

Then, abruptly, her head snaps up. Her eyes collide into his and she stands and ferociously snarls, "I don't want to talk to you!"

Everything he's been feeling--everything he's been repressing for days, bursts like acid into his bloodstream. It burns away stupid observations about her hair and her skin, sears through tiny amusements and curiosities. With this fresh rush of pure anger he is freed.

He stands up from his chair.

"Kylo--Supreme Leader?" Hux asks, through gritted teeth.

"We will resume later," Kylo Ren tells him, monotone, not bothering to look at his pasty, sniveling General.

"We have to meet with the head of the Artusian Banking Conglomerate--"

"When?"

"In less than two hours."

"Fine." He marches out of the room. She doesn't exactly follow him… She just stays with him. When he returns to his own private rooms, her pacing lands on top of his bed--which is sort of amusing, or would be if he weren't so angry.

"I hate you," he tells her, removing his cloak and gloves, and dropping them on a chair.

She ignores his statement--it's infuriating. No reaction at all. If he didn't really hate her before, he definitely does now.

"If it was really Snoke who did this to us, then shouldn't it have stopped when you killed him?" she asks.

"Yes," he concedes, trying to pour every ounce of pain and hatred and betrayal into his gaze, hoping it will infect her. She deserves to feel how she's made him feel.

"So why is it happening?" she asks.

She is angry at him, extremely guarded, that he can see… but for this question, for whatever answer he will give, she trusts him completely, trusts that he _knows_. It's like the strangest punch in the gut. Like a punch that comes at him from the inside out and decks him right in the back of his bellybutton.

"It--I don't know," he admits. It's a hard thing to admit. "I think maybe we did it, actually--when we--when we first met. And Snoke just helped bring it in to conscious focus."

"You mean when you tore into my mind," she harshly states.

"And when you tore right back into mine," he viciously rebuts.

They stand there, facing each other, both of them with clenched fists and scowls and beating hearts.

He hates her and he wants to touch her at the same time. No, not touch her, crush her. He wants to crush her to him until their bodies merge and she is forced to feel what she's done to him--to know what it's like to feel so much… so _much..._

"So this is normal?" she asks, her brow furrowing. "I mean, when two Jedi read each other's minds at the same time, this is what happens?"

He shakes his head. "I've never heard, from either the Jedi texts, or the Sith, about this happening before. We are… an anomaly."

"But we didn't--we didn't choose each other!" she protests. "Shouldn't that have made it stop?"

"Why didn't we choose each other?" he demands. He regrets it immediately. It was a mistake, something that slipped through before his mind caught up to his mouth.

"I tried to choose you! I came to save you!" she spits at him in disbelief. "And you didn't--you just--you didn't want it. You abandoned whatever--whatever there was--"

"I saved _you!_ " he sneers, putting to use that well-brewed betrayal. "I killed my Master for you! I offered you the Galaxy!"

She snorts derisively. "You didn't save me! You tried to gain yourself the only other Force user around as an ally to aid you in your quest for power. You don't want me!"

"What?" He gasps, utterly taken aback by this. "Of course I want you!"

"Because of my power," she coldly states. "If I didn't have it, you wouldn't want me."

"I--" He pauses for only a second. Something in her words rings true.

"No, I wouldn't," he admits. "But that's not because I don't find you--I mean, I wouldn't have met you without it! You wouldn't have met me! We wouldn't understand each other! There wouldn't be… You wouldn't want me without my power!"

"Obviously I did," she huffs, like he's being ridiculous. "You offered me power and I asked you to leave it and come with me. I wanted you. Not power."

Her words send a shock through his anger-riddled system. They scramble his mind and then her eyes flick to his lips for the briefest of seconds… He can't think about that right now, but his brain records it. Something in him knows the meaning of a glance like that, even if he can't let his conscious mind process it right now.

"I like your brain," he blurts out, thinking about it himself for the first time. "I like the way you think and process. I understand your loneliness. I admire your strength--the strength to survive to be--to be--to not let what happened to you--to--"

Her brow furrows and her frown deepens and he clenches his fists and tries to get ahold of his own mouth.

"You--you have strength that has nothing to do with the Force. I like who you are regardless of your power. But you could never be my equal without it. That is why it matters."

"Your equal?" She mutters. Her shoulders drop a little. She… well she doesn't fully turn toward him, but her foot shifts a little. Just a little in his direction.

He takes a firm step closer to her. He is so stupid. He knows he is stupid for this. He can sense it before it happens, that she will use this against him and hurt him with it. But he has to say it, he has to know that she knows.

"Rey," he breathes. "You can still come back. I still--"

He blinks--he doesn't mean to--doesn't want to--it's just one of those automatic involuntary bodily functions. In the sliver of a second it takes his eyelashes to complete their coupling, she's gone.

Neither his mattress nor his bedpost survive the wrath that devours him.

\--

Rey walks through the jungle of Ka'Muth, taking the long way back to their newest base—a collection of stone ruins, filled with carvings and primitive wall paintings from a people who died long long ago. She can feel their bones in the ground just as she can feel the heart-beats of the birds in the trees. On a planet like this, with so much life, being connected to the Force it is almost overwhelming.

It disturbs her that she is less overwhelmed by it now than she was before her unwelcome conversation with Ben. She feels a sort of peace, like her mind and body are balanced.

 _It's from training,_ she assures herself, _not from talking to him._

For some reason that defies reason, she knows she's lying to herself. Lying to herself is more conducive to protecting herself than looking at the truth--or what might be the truth--though. And she's very good at it. She's been practicing the art of lying to herself for nearly a lifetime.

Back at camp everyone is busy--everyone is always busy.

Poe and Finn are standing at the cooking pit, skinning a large animal with bristly fur, tusks and a wrinkly nose. They laugh boisterously with each other.

She can't hear them yet, but she can feel the simple satisfied happiness that radiates from them. It is a foreign feeling to her. She's never been… carefree? For her, life has always been serious. There has never been a break.

"Smells delicious," she tells them, once they're within earshot.

"It will be--you won't believe the spices that were found down in one of the cellars," Poe roguishly grins. "Whoever these people were, they had good taste."

Finn laughs, a big hearty real laugh, delighted at Poe's pun. Poe's grin widens appreciatively, and then his eyes shift to Rey, obviously expecting a similar reaction.

She smiles back, even though she doesn't feel it, because this is always the best response with fellow humans. Well--her mind unwittingly summons a memory of Ben's intense, brooding eyes--most humans.

"Taste it!" Finn holds out a clay jar to her. Inside she sees finely ground powder, too orange to be brown and too brown to be orange.

"Just dip your fingers in," Finn encourages. "I didn't know food could taste like this. I'm telling you, we want to defeat the First Order, all we've got to do is give the other Stormtroopers some real food--they'd never be willing to go back to protein synth-buns if they knew what the Galaxy had to offer!"

Rey smiles at him too, and this feels more natural. It is soft. It is easier to interact with Finn than it is to interact with the other humans on their new makeshift base.

She and Finn are not so different. Technically, Finn grew up with other humans, unlike her, but he too is different from the others in the Rebellion. Although, it does seems easier for him to learn their ways--not just mimic, but actually sync with them, like he understands. She is happy for him, that he has a place where he fits.

She dips her finger into the ceramic jar and tastes the powder. Almost instantly her eyes water as her tongue burns and her nose fills with heat.

"Water!" she gasps, looking around frantically.

Poe hands her a canteen, chuckling at her.

She chugs more than she should, but she can't stop. The relief of each gulp is immediately lost when she swallows. She has to keep drinking more.

She drinks until it is gone and feels a long built-in fear grip her. She takes a breath, reminding herself that they are on the banks of a huge river. Here, on this place that is not Jakku, water is not scarce, she does not have to conserve it.

"So, how many trees did you slaughter out in that jungle?" Poe asks her, when she hands the now empty canteen back to him.

"No tree slaughter," Rey honestly responds. "Just trying to get used to navigating all the different life energies on a planet like this. It's… it's a lot."

She can tell from the look in his eyes that Poe doesn't know what she's talking about. But he grins and says, "If I had a lightsaber I don't think I'd be able to resist hacking up a few trees--guess that's part of the protecting life thing huh?"

"Yeah," she nods, trying to keep up the business of smiling.

It seems harder and harder as the seconds pass. She's not sure if this is due to maintaining the pretense of the lightsaber--General Organa insisted that it was a symbol of hope and power, and it would hurt morale for its destruction to be common knowledge--or due to her smiling muscles being so rarely used.

Perhaps Poe can tell she is struggling in some way, because he says, "Good for the trees, bad for the First Order."

It is a pointless comment. Its only utility is to fill the silence. Humans do this a lot, she's noticed.

And Poe is still grinning at her, in this way he has. It's not exactly specific to her. He does it to everyone, like at any moment the target of that smile might be his newest co-conspirator.

Rey has seen the other human women (and a few not human women) respond to it with slight sways in their body, and cranes of their necks and… She wonders, if she'd grown up around humans, would she do these little things too? Would she know what they mean?

She sees confusion in his eyes every once in a while, when they interact. She wonders if it is because she does not know how to do the little sways and twists and things the other females do. She wonders what purpose they hold. What they communicate, that she is expected to communicate, but is failing to.

She notices that the other human males do variations of these little affectations and movements when they talk to females, but not when they talk to males. So, she has deduced that it must have something to do with mating… But no one is mating with anyone. So, there must be more to it, right?

She accidentally thinks about Ben. About the way he moves. About the ways his eyes hold so steady, where everyone else's are always shifting. It's because he, like her, is always serious too. Maybe, even though he grew up with humans, he doesn't understand them that well either.

She doesn't like this thought. She doesn't like that even while she is here, surrounded by friends, by people who she trusts, and who trust her, and who want her and like her, who she likes and wants to be around too, that… that she feels different than them, and similar to him. She doesn't want to see the ways they are the same.

Unfortunately, all the other humans just keep making it more and more apparent. They don't mean to. It's just, obvious. She's different, from all of them… And he is too.  
  


\--  
  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anyone who has read The Last Time, which is pretty much all smut... That came from me writing this, and not being able to resolve any of the sexual tension in this... And it had to go somewhere, and The Last Time is where it went. 
> 
> Comments = Writing Life Blood. 
> 
> Social with me Twitter or Tumblr! I'm too computer-tarded to know how to put links in right here, but they're at the end of the chapter <3


	2. Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Leia have a long awaited talk. Kylo has to go about the business of being Supreme Leader... and just when he finally gets to sleep, the Force has other plans... Well, sort of.

The next day, Rey wakes to the insistent knocking of C3PO at her door. She knows it’s him because he keeps saying "Miss Rey, the general is in need of your conference! Miss Rey, the general is in need of your conference!" Over and over.

Rey rolls off of her mattress--still a luxury she cannot believe she is afforded--and opens her door.

"Did they find us?" She gasps through her yawn, as she hastily pulls on her boots.

"Uh, no, no one has found us. However General Organa is in need of--"

"My conference," she repeats. "Yes. Let's go."

C3PO is obnoxiously slow, especially considering the amount of adrenaline his wake-up call has pumped into her system. "Can you just tell me where she is?"

"Well of course," he chirps. "In her room."

Rey frowns, confused. "Not the meeting lodge?"

"I believe she--"

"Thanks C3PO!" Rey says, quickly outstripping him.

She doesn't want to be rude to C3PO, but she's already got too much going on in her head. Dreams unresolved, plaguing her with this fuzzy sense that they could be memories or premonitions or neither, just feelings she doesn't want to find words for.

Whatever they are they're filled with pretty dark eyes and even darker lashes and thick black hair that she can feel in her fingers--which makes no sense at all. She's never touched anyone else's hair. Ever.

\--

Kylo Ren enters his main conference room. He takes his seat at the head of the table, and does not miss the fresh wave of resentment that radiates from General Hux, as he does so. The whole room quiets and sits up straight, respectfully waiting for him to begin.

"Where do we stand on procuring Mandalore, Admiral Kidu?"

“We’re already drafting up our recommendations for how to incorporate their highest leaders into the order. It will be on your desk within five cycles.”

Kylo nods to the old Klatoonian, then directs his gaze at General Ikri.

“And Phindar?” he asks the reptilian general.

“Phindar is open to negations of an economic nature. They have little interest in the Order’s ideology, but their leadership is open to concealing certain First Order activities for the right price. My advice is to take advantage of their voluntary economic cooperation until after we have finished incorporating Mandalore and have successfully procured Vjun.”

"Does anyone have alternate advice?" he asks, carefully scanning each face in the room. The most important information always came from faces, never words.

"Sir," General Ywok cautiously interjects, "we have the resources to take Phindar by force. Engaging in economic agreements would tie up funds that we need to ensure cooperation from more… resilient systems. It would be in the Order's best interest to simply take what we want from the Phindarans.”

"You are failing to look at the bigger picture, General Ywok,” General Hux cuts in. "If we engage the Phindarans then we divert troops from the subjugation of Vjun. It is inefficient, always inefficient, to fight a war on two fronts. We need to wait until we have taken Vjun.”

“Yet just last week you proposed we begin implementing guerilla tactics on Ploo,” General Ikri jumps in, his green-scaled face glittering in the light as his lips twist.

Like all Kerkoidens, there is something inherently frightening about him. Kylo feels Hux’s initial panic at being caught in Ikri’s gaze, before Hux’s higher order logic can suppress it. However, he wonders if this panic is purely instinctual… Or is there something else going on?

“Yes, guerrilla tactics—that means we start slowly infiltrating small civilian populations and stirring up discourse so that takeover is easier once the time comes. That is not the same in terms of manpower or cost as a direct military assault,” Hux rebuts, sounding rather insulted.

“Now, back to Phindar,” Hux continues—Kylo does not miss the slight raise in the pitch of his voice, the nervousness—“We have the treaty with Phindar and we are not going to waste the time it will buy us to focus elsewhere.”

“The Phindarans will quickly deduce that as our strategy, though,” General Ywok defends. “In delaying, we will merely give them time to build up their own forces and learn our tactics through observing our conquest of Vjun.”

“Phindar does not want a war with us, General Ywok,” Hux coldly hisses. “They have a sated, pleasure-seeking population—a compliant population. We will not waste resources—

Kylo Ren holds his ever-gloved hand up. They fall silent almost immediately.

"For now we will pursue diplomacy with Phindar. Admiral Kidu, you will go to the court at Sab'thu, acting as my emissary. General Ywok, should a time come when it is necessary to forcibly meet our resource requirements, we will need to have a strategy well-planned and waiting. I leave that to you.

“General Ikri, please be General Hux’s second pair of eyes as he develops his strategy for infiltrating Ploo. I look forward to hearing about your focus on Ploo soon, General Hux. Everyone else, return to duty.”

Then Kylo stands. Everyone stands with him.

Admiral Kidu and General Ikri both salute him at the same time. Proper fear and respect come from them.

Admiral Kidu has long been on the more diplomatic side of war. He knows that Kylo Ren is no mere child, who knows nothing of politics and galactic affairs. He knows that Kylo Ren is the son of Leia Organa, that he grew up traveling the galaxy and was groomed in childhood to be a leader of the future. He knows that Kylo Ren is more uniquely qualified than anyone else in this room to understand the flaws of the New Republic and why the First Order must replace it.

General Ikri comes from a race of peoples who understand raw power, who can sense it like humans smell food. He knows that Kylo Ren is strong. He understands the ways of the Force, even if he himself cannot apply them. He knows that strength and power do not come to those who are not meant to wield it.

Kylo can sense these things in them. Their understandings make them worthy of trust--as much as anyone ever is, which, of course, isn't much. General Hux, on the other hand, merely continues to vibrate with resentment.

 _So pathetic,_ Kylo thinks, not for the first time, _that Hux can't just accept his place in all of this: my underling._

\--

Rey knocks on General Organa's door.

"Come in," the gravelly, yet dignified voice of the Resistance’s leader calls. Rey obliges.

She closes the door promptly but softly behind her. General Organa silently motions to the seat opposite her own, and Rey jumps to accept it. She doesn’t mean to feel nervous, but General Organa is just so… so impressive. In her presence all Rey can notice is how unimpressive she herself is not--the Force using abilities aside, that is.

The table between them contains very breakable-looking dishes--white and painted and elegantly put together, with delicate little handles. There are little bite sized pieces of food layed out on a plate, and Rey is suddenly more hungry than she has been in days. But there is a cup in the middle of her plate, so she’s not sure where to put the food.

"I hope you like Mufarian tea," General Organa says, with a little sideways smile, picking up the largest of the dishes--the thing with the lid and the spout.

"I've never had tea," Rey says, returning the smile.

General Organa pours dark liquid out of the spout and into a cup on top of a plate, in front of Rey. Then she does the same to the cup in front of her. Rey waits to touch hers, carefully watching General Organa, intending to learn what it is one does when a drink is so hot that it's producing steam.

General Organa takes little metal utensils from other little breakable looking dishes and drops the items inside of them into her tea. One is a thick, sticky substance. Another is opaque white, thinner and much easier to transfer.

Rey nervously adds a bit of the thick stuff to her Mufarian tea. She stirs like the general does, and cringes every time the _clink, clink,_ of the metal utensil hitting the sides of the cup enters her ears. She concentrates so intensely on not breaking the cup, that by the time she looks up, Leia has finished and is sipping her own tea.

Rey stops, folds her hands in her lap, and mentally orders herself to stop being embarrassing.

As if she understands what Rey is thinking, General Organa's amused side smile returns--Rey is grateful for the compassion in it, and haunted by the familiarity in it. Haunted by the way it's so easy for her mind's eye to fill in the fuller lips, the wider stretch, the hints of stubble and dimples and--

"How are you adjusting to life on Ka'Muth?"

"It's… it's very alive," she responds. "I like all the food and water. We're very lucky to be here."

General Organa's smile does not leave her lips, but she nods solemnly as she takes another sip of tea.

"I am sorry that it's taken so long for us to have a moment to talk, but now that we do, I hope you'd like to. I would very much like to hear about your time with my brother."

"Oh, he, I'm--well he didn't want to teach me at first, but… There were these natives on the island—they didn't like me very much, I accidentally ruined a hut and then… Well maybe I ruined two in a way. And I… Luke told me that… I'm sorry," Rey sighs, her teacup shaking in her hands. "I guess I don't really know how to talk about it. Or what to talk about. There's… There's just a lot. And also not really anything."

Leia is silent for a long enough stretch of time that Rey's nerves start to demand action and she finds herself gulping down her tea. It is bitter and earthy, but the back splash of sweetness that must come from the thick brown liquid she added has a nice balancing effect.

"You don't need to be afraid to tell me about unpleasant things," Leia finally says. "My brother could be a stubborn bastard--like all the men in my life," she chuckles. "I certainly wouldn't blame you if the two of you ended up fighting. That's sort of the Jedi way, anyway."

"I--no, we, I mean we did, but with words. Not like Jedi. We only had the one lightsaber."

"Is that how it broke? You and Luke fighting?"

 _She doesn't know,_ Rey suddenly realizes. _No one knows._

They hadn't talked about it. She hadn't talked about it with anyone. It was so embedded on her soul--this tumultuous, permanent, life-altering event--it was so heavy and real and raw that she genuinely had forgotten no one knew. Everyone thought she'd been on Ahch-To and then happened to miraculously blast from there to Crait at the last minute.

She sips more tea, hiding her mouth behind the cup as she mutters her first-ever lie to General Organa, "Yeah."

"Did the two of you try to fix it?"

She thinks about the way it broke. About the pull, the strength, the way energy moved through her body, pulling like a loop springboarding off of Kylo, around her and back until she didn't know where his ended and hers began. Energy that was dividing, polarizing, moving away, away, away, like they shared a core that they were both stretching away from. That core was the lightsaber. And they did split it.

"No," she answers, this time telling the truth. "It happened right before Crait. There wasn't time."

"Ah," Leia nods. "Well, I suppose we will have to do our best to fix it together then."

Rey looks up, shocked. "Do you know how to?"

Leia shakes her head softly, "I don't. But I'm hoping R2D2 will have information that might be useful. He's been around since the days of the Jedi order, and once upon a time a Jedi Knight was his master."

"Okay," Rey takes a deep breath, grateful the conversation is moving toward practicality and productivity. She needs that lightsaber to work again. She needs to feel less helpless.

"Good," Leia smiles, "I'll send him your way first thing tomorrow morning then."

"Thank you," Rey says, setting her tea down and standing. Leia raises her eyebrows in surprise and Rey sits back down, awkwardly.

"Sorry," she says. "Is there anything else?"

"I don't know," Leia smiles. "Is there?"

Rey wonders if this is a test, if Leia somehow knows something. But… But there's nothing to know really. Nothing that happened between her and Kylo matters. It changed absolutely nothing, except that her lightsaber is broken. But for that it could have never happened and everything would be the same. Except maybe Snoke wouldn't be dead and Kylo Ren wouldn't have declared himself Supreme Leader and… well maybe a few things changed. But her role in them hardly seems relevant.

"No," Rey says, knowing she's waited too long, and now Leia must be suspicious. "No, I'm just… I'm sorry that I couldn't get there sooner. I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

Leia places her saucer and cup back on the table, and then carefully leans forward, and grasps Rey's hands in her own.

"Rey," she says, soft and maternal and sincere, "without you we would all be dead. Do not berate yourself for what you could have done if circumstances were different. Realize that even under terrible circumstances you did amazing things. You saved us all. You are our greatest hero and now, you are our only hope."

_Then he is our only hope._

She hears the echo of her last words to Luke--so resolute. She'd been so sure. She'd been so wrong.

She tries to smile at Leia. Tries to show her that she appreciates her comfort and her confidence, but… all she actually feels is that aching pain of aloneness.

\--

Rey retrieves the Jedi texts from her room and carefully packs them in her little traveling sack. She disappears into the jungle with them, far away from the noises of the camp.

When she finds a place where she hears nothing but birds and running water she starts hunting for a comfortable looking tree trunk. She finds one that is thick and sloped, growing at an odd angle, but strong and steady. She nestles beside it, warmed by its sweet simple energy, and opens her sack.

She looks through the texts, one at a time. She can't read the ancient language they're written in, but she's hoping for pictures that she can show to R2D2 tomorrow when they begin their lightsaber restoration project. She wants to be useful.

After the third text she starts to feel disheartened. It's not like she was expecting a blow by blow instruction manual, but she's found nothing. There are some pictures of crystals, but that's it. Nothing to indicate that at the point these texts were written the Jedi had even figured out how to make lightsabers.

She places the books back in her sack and stands up and--

"KRIFF! _"_ she shrieks, stumbling forward as her foot lands on something hard but soft and sloped and uneven--a terrain she's never stepped on and doesn't know how to keep her balance on.

Her knees crumple on top of it and her hands land on dirt and she hears a sharp gasp. She scrambles to get back to her feet, but strong hands grab her around the waist, rough and violent, and twist her, throwing her onto her back and mercilessly pinning her. She reaches up automatically and--

"Oh," Kylo breathes above her, his black curls hanging down, over her face, like her own personal umbrella.

With one forearm he’s got her pinned to the ground, his elbow on one of her shoulders, his broad hand on the other. His other hand holds a swiftly summoned lightsaber, freshly ignited. His knees are between her legs, spreading them wide, so she can't get any real leverage to use them.

She watches, her heart hammering, as his eyes go from murderous to shocked to apologetic. She feels her chest heave up and down and and then, even though she means to figure out how to knee him in the gut and run off, she accidentally whispers, "Let me go."

He clenches his jaw, and leans back, releasing her shoulders, swinging one leg over her, to join the other.

She scrambles backward, away from him until she's back against her tree, hugging its trunk with one hand, like it could save her from noticing that he's shirtless and staring up at her like--like she's gone and hurt him, even though he's the one who summoned a lightsaber and pinned her.

"I was sleeping," he explains. "I thought you were an assassin."

"Has… is that… who's tried to assassinate you?" She asks, sort of wishing she hadn't. It's not like she… it would really make her life a lot easier if someone would assassinate him.

His lip quirks up wryly. "Someone tried to poison me four days ago. They haven't been caught, so I figure another attempt is imminent."

Rey accidentally sucks in a bunch of air and then forgets to exhale for several seconds. Whatever weird clenching nauseated thing her stomach is doing is a delayed reaction to him attacking her, and is totally unrelated to this conversation about assassination.

His arms rise and he… he rubs his eyes. And he yawns and sits back down. It's so… so… very human.

He runs a hand through his hair and she watches the lines on his arms morph with the movement. Naked, their full size is apparent in a way she'd never consciously processed before. Or maybe it's just because one had been pressed to her shoulders and chest and she'd felt the weight of him.

Her eyes trail to his bare chest and she--well she'd seen that before and it--it was just as hard to not look at it this time. And the triangular slope down to his ribs, his stomach his… She just…

She suddenly feels like a very gross person--like a lecherous advantage-taking person and resolutely jerks her eyes back up… Which is a mistake.

She should have looked to the side. Or turned around completely. But she didn't. And now, his onyx eyes have caught hers and she’s pinned in a whole other way.

His face is bathed in the dark of wherever he is, rather than the bright sun of where she is. It is strange, to see him here, in front of her, coated in the markings of another reality.

"Are we talking?" he softly asks her.

Her esophagus starts to swell and her heart starts to beat.

"We don't--no. We--that's not necessary."

 _Damn it,_ she thinks. She's not sure why she's having this visceral reaction to his question. Or to him. Whichever. She is quite certain it's unnecessary.

"Fine," he sighs. "I'm… I really need sleep."

"Sleep," she tells him instantly.  
  
"Easier said than done," he responds, sounding so very very exhausted.   
  
She feels this pang of pity--it's a weird sort of cruelty to not feel safe sleeping. She's felt it so much of her life. She knows he's had more than one reason to feel it. And now, even when he is so powerful, powerful enough he should never have to fear it again, it's still there.   
  
"I'll... look I promise that, at least for as long as the Force keeps us connected, if I see any shadows looming over you, I'll shout and wake you up."  
  
His lips quirk with a wry smile. "You're going to keep watch for me?"

She frowns, annoyed with herself for even saying anything, and pointedly looks away.   
  
"Why do you care if I die now, when you didn't before?"

"Fine!" She seethes. "You're right, forget I offered to help you feel a little safer. I don't know why I did--I hope someone _does_ kill you in your sleep!"

For good measure she stomps away and doesn't look back. She stomps through the jungle. She heads up hill--there are lots of little hills here. It feels good to work her legs and lungs and sweat away the swell in her throat and the sting in her eyes and the shaking in her hands.

She stomps and stomps until she hears a weird noise and she thinks maybe it's some sort of insect or frog. Then she realizes that she's neither getting further from, nor closer to, the noise.

Reluctantly, after many minutes of she finally concedes to satisfying her primal brain's need to confirm the source of the noise and turns in its constant direction.

Not ten feet from her the figure of Kylo Ren continues to exist. This time on his side, one arm under a pillow, his black curls draped across it. His blanket remains pushed down to his waist. She can see his back fully--the pale skin and the scars, some small, some painfully large. She sees a jagged circular scar and realizes it's from the blaster shot Chewie gave him. She follows the line of his spine as it leads down between two dimples and--

 _Kriff!_ She thinks, notably internally this time, jerking her head away from him once more.

She's confirmed what she needed to confirm. He's still there, and that noise is a sort of rumble he makes as he sleeps. She's… She's never seen another human sleep before. She didn't know humans made noises like that.

_Kriff! Kriff! Kriff!_

She stomps onward. Eventually he will disappear.  
  
And then she stops... And her eyes find him again. If someone did try to stab him in his sleep, she would wake him up, and she knows it. Because it's a cowardly way to kill someone. That's all. 

Standing still, watching Kylo, and feeling weird about it, but watching nonetheless, her ears start to pick up other noises. The crickets that always come out this time of day, of course... But also, a sort of popping sound. Like liquid left in a pot too long. Slowly, she experiments with moving here and there, trying to hone in on the source of the noise.

She starts to smell something too--something that is a little bit pungent and salty, but ultimately not too off putting. She pushes past a great deal of thick vegetation and finds a strange pool, cloaked in steam, with water that bubbles gently from one edge. A pool with air being fed into it? She glances at Kylo, still sleeping in her eight o'clock, then pushes through the leaves to investigate.

Tentatively, she pokes the water with her finger. It is warm. Really really warm. At least as warm as her body. She cautiously eases her whole hand in and brushes the edge of the dirt beneath. It is soft in every possible sense of the word. She presses her whole hand flat.

She's heard of these--that warm ponds existed on some planets, just like some planets had cold oceans and rain. The term _hot pool_ swims into her mind.

 _I wonder if it's safe for bathing,_ she thinks.

She glances to her left. Kylo is still there, laying on his side, making his sleep rumbles. She'd rather wait out this connection here than back at camp anyway. So she might as well take the opportunity to investigate the hot pool further.

She unlaces her boots, pulls off her socks and lets her toes sink into the sand. She edges them in deeper, until the water is up to her ankles. Once she gets used to this soothing sensation she scoots closer.

Slowly, she discovers that the water gets deeper, deep enough for her to get almost up to her knees. It might get even deeper than that--she can't tell by sight because she's kicked up enough soil for it to cloud the water.

She glances at Kylo again. She's not risking taking her clothes off and actually bathing with him here. What if he wakes up?

So she settles for just languidly soaking her feet and her calves. She doesn't notice that her eyes never really leave his sleeping form. Nor, that her breathing falls into the same rhythm as the rise and fall of his body.

She does, however, consciously conclude from this particular meeting, that there really must be no rhyme or reason at all to the Force connecting them. What possible purpose could there be in her watching him sleep? The whole thing--their whole connection--it's all just a random accident.  
  
And yet... she can't help but wonder if he's sleeping because he's truly so exhausted that his fear has been over-ridden. Or if, maybe, her being here, awake and watching, even if just through the bond, actually makes him feel safer.   
  
She pushes her toes deeper into the mud, shaking her head at herself.  _It doesn't matter_ , she internally insists,  _It's just... it's just a random accident._

_\--_

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my amazing Betas @Ntanzen, and @Poppy_Willow, who tell me when I've gone off the deep end, catch my grammar mistakes, and lovingly correct my constant inabilities to properly spell Ahch-To (Yes, I did have to go back to google-docs and recheck Ntanzen's correction to make sure I did it right for this note. Crossing fingers that someday my brain will get on board). I love you both, thank you so much!


	3. Priorities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose wakes up. Rey returns to her hot spring. Kylo considers that she might be trying to ruin him simply by distracting him. Hux is asking all the right (aka wrong) questions. And the Force would really like Kylo to read a book, but who has time to read books and take over the galaxy?

"Finn!" Poe yells, running up to Finn and Rey as fast as he can. Rey grabs her staff automatically, then takes time to register the giant smile on Poe's face.

"What?" Finn asks, glancing at Rey as if she might have some idea.

"Rose--"

"Oh no!" Finn instantly yells, jumping to a whole new level of attention. He takes off, dashing back toward the center of the village, yelling, "What's happening to her!" over his shoulder at Poe.

"Finn!" Poe laughs. "She's fine! She woke up!"

Finn stops in his tracks. That initial burst of panic fades and is replaced by a big blooming smile. Enthusiastically, he looks from Poe to Rey and says, "Well come on then!"

Poe and Rey fall into step beside each other, while Finn takes the lead, practically jumping as he resists the urge to run. Poe knocks his elbow into Rey's, and says, "Maybe we should hang back, let the lovebirds have their moment?"

"Lovebirds?" Rey asks, confused.

"Finn says she kissed him before she passed out. They might be all kinds of cheesy with her waking up after all this time."

"Oh," Rey breathes, looking ahead, at Finn.

She can feel the happiness coming from him. She smiles, happy for him, although she is a bit confused about the other feelings this stirs to life in her. They're not bad, but they don't exactly feel good either. Kind of like drinking water that's been sitting still for too long.

Rey and Poe follow Finn into the little square hut that has become the sick bay, but they linger near the door. Finn is already sitting, one knee up, on Rose's bed, hugging her at the most awkward angle. But her small fingers cling to his shoulder blades, and his big palms press her as close as possible to his chest.

"You okay, Rey from Jakku?" Poe quietly asks, so light-hearted with that sideways grin of his.

"Of course," Rey answers, her brow furrowed seriously, as she tries to figure out what would make him think she wasn't okay.

"It's okay to be jealous," Poe whispers companionably, sympathetically.

"Of what?" Rey whispers back, genuinely confused.

"Oh," Poe says, turning his whole head her way now.

She meets his eyes, but they do nothing to relieve said confusion. He's looking at her like she's just given him some important piece of information--like the location of a salt mine, or what he'd been doing wrong trying to fix a blaster. It's kind of unnerving. Humans are weird.

She turns back to Finn and Rose. When Finn releases her, his hands slide across her back, and hers across his, slowly, gently, in no hurry to let go. Finn's grin is still huge and Rose's eyes are wet with joy.

"Guys," Finn turns around, and waves them over, "come meet Rose!"

"We've met," Poe grins, confidently striding across the room. He drops to one knee, takes Rose's hand and kisses it dramatically.

"You are a legend-worthy kind of crazy, Rose Tico," he dramatically tells her.

"You are a legend-worthy kind of corny, Poe Dameron," Rose replies, rolling her eyes at him.

When her eyes complete their circle they shift their focus to Rey, who is awkwardly hanging somewhere in the middle of the room.

Rey raises her hand and waves, but she's pretty sure she did it wrong.

Now that she's thinking about it, this is the first time she's meeting a new person without having the immediate shared purpose of running for their lives and saving the whole galaxy. It feels… hard. Turns out, it's much easier jump to action with people than it is to try to figure out what to say in times of calm.

Perhaps Rose senses this, and takes pity on her, because she waves back and says, "You must be Rey."

"Yeah," Rey smiles. "I--I've heard all about what you and Finn did. I'm glad you're okay."

"I've heard all about what you and Finn did too. I'd love to hear your side of the story, though. I never trust boys to notice the important details," Rose responds.

She is smiling, but Rey senses some weird shift has occurred, some subtlety she doesn't understand. So she smiles back until everyone's eyes leave her and she can slip out.

\--

The next time Kylo sees Rey, it far more inconvenient, and more distracting, than any before ever have been--which is kind of saying a lot.

He is in the middle of discussing strategy for efficiently occupying Vjun without disrupting their plutonium mining operation. A whole table full of generals and admirals and science advisors sit, with him at the head, looking at the holo in the center, while General Hux rattles off facts and figures.

She appears at the other end of the table, right in front of Admiral Kidu. As of yet she is unaware of him.

He stops breathing as his whole being is hijacked by the sight of her rubbing her hands over her calves slowly but with fluidity, like she’s massaging pain away. Her hair is wet and she wears only a thin ratty towel--which--her legs--if… If Admiral Kidu could have seen her, he'd be getting a face full of whatever’s hiding underneath the gap in that towel.

From his angle, Kylo cannot see the gap in towel. He didn't know how much he'd wanted to see it until that moment. It is a vicious and terrifying want and he already knows it's going to cause him a lot of problems.

"Supreme Leader?" Hux says. Kylo Ren's head jerks back in his direction. He steels his jaw.

"Leave," he quietly growls at Hux. Not quietly enough. She heard him.

Her head snaps in his direction and she jumps back, clutching the towel to her. She stumbles, and curls into a bit of a ball, a moan of pain eeking out of her, as one of her hands creeps around to cup her tail bone--What did she fall on? Where is she?

"What?" Hux instantly questions. "We're in the middle of--"

His eyes lock on Rey as she clings to her towel, looking around her, probably for clothes. He feels a different sort of desire stir in the pit of his stomach… something primal. It doesn't come from the feeling of the connection between them, it comes from something animalistic. All of a sudden he is just a man and she is just a practically naked woman. Nothing more needs to be thought of or said.

"There is a disturbance in the Force," he solemnly answers Hux. "I must trace it, and discover the source. If I do not, it could lead to extreme complications in our plans."

"A disturbance in the Force?" Rey snorts derisively at him.

Hux's eyes set stubbornly. "Kylo--"

He raises his hand and squeezes. Hux makes a sputtering noise, hissing desperately for air.

All around him people rise from the conference table and scramble for the door. He releases Hux once the room is otherwise empty.

"Do you understand my orders now, General?" he calmly asks, his molten eyes never once leaving Rey's.

Rey gives up on her search for clothes and takes to staring at him, all rebellious and stubborn and disapproving. _Like she wouldn't think Hux deserved to die if she had any idea who he was and what he'd done,_ he spitefully thinks.

Despite the fury radiating off of Hux, he is smart enough to turn and leave without another word.

"Shield the room, turn off cameras, microphones and audio recorders," he orders, his voice barely a whisper. Above him the computer responds with three small dings of completion and the windows and walls all around fade to black.

"We're alone now," he tells Rey.

"Could you just… just turn around, or something?" she asks, her attention back on her tiny towel.

"I could," he quietly replies, slowly walking closer to her.

She scoots back… but doesn't get up and run. He keeps walking, slowly, looking for any sign she's about to bolt.

"It's only been a few days," she sighs in frustration.

"Yes," he concedes.

She glares at his hand, as it lands on the conference table. He sits on top of it, next to her, almost close enough to touch her. Almost. Still, she doesn't move away.

"How are we supposed to be at opposite ends of a war if we keep being forced into these little chats?" she thinks aloud. "Do you think if everytime we just went straight to stabbing each other it would break the bond?"

"Not permanently," he answers honestly. "Obviously, it didn't when you shot me."

"Well, can you try?" she pleads. "To stab me, or kill me in some other way."

He quirks an eyebrow, just slightly. "It does hurt, you know."

"It will be fine," she sighs. "I just, I don't have time for this. I really want to get back to my bath."

He feels his lip curl up involuntarily, darkly amused at all the ways he could respond to that, and the fact that she is oblivious to them all.

"Why don't _you_ try stabbing _me_ ?" he asks, acutely aware of the fact that she _still_ hasn't actually tried to move away from him.

She bites her lower lip, like she's been caught doing something wrong. He waits and waits, intently staring at her face, examining every little micro-expression… But she doesn't answer the question.

"You don't have a lightsaber, do you?" he coos, enjoying the absolute upper hand this gives him, should they ever meet again.

This whole time he's been left with a terrible pit in his stomach, knowing that she was stronger, that she woke up first, that she was _better._ This is salve on the wound… Although he can feel this thing in his guts that twists at the thought of taking advantage of it.

“It _did_ break then,” he frowns. “If you showed me the pieces, I might be able to help you fix it it.”

“You’d probably lie and tell me how to make it blow up in my face,” she scornfully retorts.

"I am not so cowardly," he tells her truthfully, burying his deep rage that she would think him someone like that. "And I have never lied to you."

She holds his gaze with those speckled hazel eyes. He can't afford to think the way her pupils dilate and her brows shift means anything. Or to even notice the way her nose twitches, her freckles atop sparkling under their coating of steam. Or the loose little strands of hair acting as pathways for tiny droplets to roll onto her shoulders, down into the crevice of her towel. 

"Put your clothes on," he growls, turning away. He loathes her more so much more for being beautiful.

"Two minutes ago you were refusing to turn around," she points out, spitefully.

Under the aggressive tone he can feel her confusion, her unspoken questions. He certainly will not be answering them. He stands there in silence, and wonders why he doesn't just leave altogether. Sometimes running away from her works. _Sometimes._

"So, have you ever been to a hot spring?" she asks him after a full minute of silence.

He frowns, thrown off by the question, and by the innocent normalcy of it--like, like everything else hadn't happened, wasn't still happening.

It changes the whole tone of this meeting for him. Even as his guts call him closer to her--call him to touch her, even if only the tiniest bit--his brain turns back on with a vengeance.

"No," he cautiously answers, peeking over his shoulder. She is still sitting in that towel.

"I told you to get dressed!" he growls.

"I'm not ready to yet," she scowls back at him as she picks up some little clay pot, and dribbles oil from it on to her feet. "Anyway, the next time you take a break from being the Supreme Evil Overlord of the Galaxy, you should visit one. They're really calming."

As she speaks, she isn't looking at him. She's flexing her toes, coating them with oil, tracing the arches up to her heels…

He experiences the impulse to reach out and help her. To examine every little detail of her oil-soaked skin.

 _Has she decided to try and make me trust her again?_ he asks himself. _Is she luring me in to a false_ _sense of_ _security with her beautiful skin and eyes and innocent little questions?_

 _I won't be foolish enough to ever trust her again_ , he immediately promises himself in response.

He abruptly stands up and stalks away. Angry at himself, and angry at her.

"Ben?" she mutters, sounding so genuinely confused.

He almost looks back at her, but he knows better. She's definitely doing this on purpose. _She has decided to confuse my feelings,_ he concludes. _She's trying to distract and manipulate me._

He will not fall for her ploys.

\--

Rey shrugs off his weirdness and finishes her bath. The warm water is so soft and salty. It eases her muscles and her mind.

His silly anger is oddly comforting to her. She understands the directness of anger. There is no mystery--he's mad, maybe at her, maybe at himself, maybe at one of the people around him. It doesn't matter the source of the anger. It is what it is; it's not confusing like everyone else's emotions are.

For weeks now she's been watching all the other humans share these little looks and glances and smiles that say a million things. It's like all they all speak a language that she doesn't, and she can't make sense of it. Ben at least makes sense, even when she completely disagrees with him.

That night she cannot sleep, so she pulls out the Jedi texts, guilty. R2D2 still wasn't done helping the engineers... But that doesn't mean she shouldn't keep trying on her own.  
  
She tries to meditate. To sit very still, with her eyes closed, and her mind open, to listen, to let the Force guide her. After a while she starts thumbing the edges of the pages, thinking maybe she'd get a little shock or sudden impulse to open, when her fingers were near the right page...  
  
That shock or impulse does not come though. Or maybe she's not concentrating hard enough. She knows this needs to be a priority. But she just doesn't _feel_ anything. Not anything helpful anyway.  

Finally she just opens a page and stares at it and hopes. And then she turns the page and keeps hoping. She stares at page after page of symbols that mean nothing to her until they literally blur together and fade.   
  
_I'll try again first thing in the morning,_  she promises herself as consciousness slips from her. She lets the book fall gently onto her chest, still open.  
  
At least, she thinks she does… But she must not have--she must have gotten up and put it somewhere she can't remember--because when she wakes up in the morning, it's gone.

\--

Kylo Ren wakes with a start. He sits up, his lightsaber flying into his hand, as something drop onto his lap.

"Lights on," he murmurs to the computer. It obliges instantly. In his lap sits an old musty parchment book. He _feels_ what it is without ever opening it. When he touches it he is immediately assaulted with a life force on it that is much, much fresher than all the other long-dead hands to have touched it. _Her._

 _How?_ he wonders, not for the first time. _Why does the Force keep doing this?_

He has a feeling the answer has literally dropped in his lap. He can sense answers waiting inside. Naturally, he picks up the book and chucks it across the room.

\--

Kylo walks onto the bridge and feels a tremor of sudden fear from General Hux. He immediately zones in on the man--he has several other high ranking officers near him. They all stop talking when Kylo Ren walks in…

They're clever enough to resume quickly, but he notes the pause, the shifting eyes. He pretends not to notice though. Always better to let the underlings think you're too stupid to be suspicious of them.

"Report on the progress of the Supremecy II," he demands, feeling rather detached.

"On schedule, sir," General Amok Bur replies.

"Supreme Leader," Hux addresses him, unable to completely repress that edge of superiority he has no right to feel, "I would like to brief you privately on new data related to our Jedi problem."

Kylo's heart clenches. He nods slowly, and turns on his heel. "Walk with me."

He doesn't wait for Hux to concede, he just starts walking. The shorter man runs to fall in stride beside him. It's nice that Hux doesn't understand the Force. If he did, he might know to hide his contempt for Kylo. But he doesn't, so Kylo feels all of it. Hux will never be able to trick him. He will always know Hux's intentions.

Kylo waits until they're several stories below the command deck to say, "What is it?"

"You lured the Jedi girl here, and then lost control of her, enabling her to kill Supreme Leader Snoke and all the Praetorian guards… But she left you alive."

Kylo swallows the lump that threatens to form in his throat. "I'm not hearing any new data, General."

"Why did she leave you alive?" Hux asks.

"I am still not hearing new data. If your next statement is equally without purpose, this conversation ends."

Hux's resentment swirls and swishes, but he swallows it, as he is so good at doing. "My point is, whatever you did to lure her to us in the first place, you've manipulated her into having some sentimentality for you that caused her to have mercy on you. She has proven that she is weak and foolish. I believe you can lure her back to us again."

Kylo takes several long slow breaths, letting the silence wind and twist between him and Hux, across the whole deck, until only the buzz of electricity living in the walls could be heard.

He takes this time to quickly consider what it means that Hux has been thinking along these lines. It isn't the possibilities of what Hux is suggesting that he needs to think about--he knows Hux is wrong, Rey will not come back to him--but what does it mean that Hux has gone down this path? What other little details has Hux been paying attention to, trying to stitch together?

"The girl is irrelevant, Hux," he solemnly declares. "She is untrained and unfocused. She got lucky because we underestimated her. However, bringing her down will not bring down the rebellion, or repair the damage to our Galactic reputation. Acknowledging her, singling her out, will only give her more power in the minds of other would-be rebels. We will ignore her and rob her of whatever credit rebel sympathizers would give her should we allow her to be important."

"She killed the Supreme Leader! She does not deserve mercy," Hux seethes, a real fury stirring in his chest. For the first time, Kylo wonders if Hux actually had an attachment to Snoke.

"Mercy?" Kylo darkly repeats, turning to face Hux fully. "No. Not mercy. Strategy. She is not a priority."

Hux purses his lips and seethes on. _Good._

"Rebuilding our supply of dreadnoughts is a priority," Kylo continues. "Building the Supremacy II is a priority. Ensuring that your stormtroopers do not have any more anomalies in their conditioning is a priority. Securing the relationships that will enable us access to the resources we need to continue Supreme Leader Snoke's great vision, that is a priority."

He pauses again, just long enough to give Hux the opportunity to be an idiot and try to argue. Hux vibrates with frustration, but he restrains himself.

"We will not dishonor Supreme Leader Snoke by letting his life's work go to waste in pursuit of one little untrained girl, who will eventually be captured or killed along with the rest of the pathetic little three-dozen-strong resistance. Is that understood, Hux?"

"Supreme Leader you are overlooking--"

Kylo pinches his fingers together, and Hux's vocal cords compress until all he can make is the tiniest of whining wheezes. _Remember your place, Hux._

"I believe I have made our priorities clear, General. This conversation is now over."

Hux jerks his chin forward and back, the panic of mortality overtaking his anger. Kylo releases him, and walks away.

Everything he just said to Hux is true. Those ought to be his priorities. Not Rey. He cannot, on any level, allow her to be a priority.

 

\--

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed the first two chapters. I hope you guys liked this one! Turns out writing actual plot is way harder than smut--I mean, not that I'm shocked... But damn, you have to pay attention to every little thing, which means second and third and fourth guessing everything. It's kind of fun in the way that, you know, really hard sudoku is fun. Let me know how you all think it's shaping up? =)
> 
> Also--if anyone knows how to insert links into the notes section, tell me? Everything I've tried has failed, but I know it can be done, because tons of other authors (obviously more tech savvy than me) have done it. I want to be able to link to my awesome Betas, Ntantzen and Poppi_Willow every time I gush about their amazingness (which they have quite a lot of).


	4. Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual, R2D2 knows what's best--suffice to say, Rey is not prepared. In the mean time, Leia has been a-plotting, Poe is getting antsy, Finn is getting included, and Kylo... Well, pillow talks with Kylo are never light, are they?

It's the middle of the night. He's almost asleep… But he feels it. The air being sucked out of the room and pushed back in, all at once. The flux in the pressure making his ears pop…

He opens his eyes and she's right there… Literally. She's not even a foot away from him. Lying on his bed, her arm curved under her head, her elbow aligned with his chin. Her knees brushing his.

They both scramble up at the same time, so they're sitting. She's wearing a cotton strip wrapped around her chest. Her ribs and stomach are showing. His eyes keep moving down before he can stop them and sees more skin--bare thighs, barely divided from her hips by another strip of dirty once-white cotton.

 _Guess the Resistance isn't on Hoth,_ he thinks. It helps him tactically justify the fact that he's noticed all the bare skin in front of him.

He turns around, putting his back to her.

"Why are you being so weird?" she asks him. Her voice sounds tired and infuriatingly indifferent.

He plans to not answer her at all, but as the seconds tick by the silence allows for her breathing to become incredibly loud. So so loud. Until he knows its rhythm. Until his falls into alignment with it, or maybe it always was, he doesn't know. He does know he doesn't want to think about it. So he really has no choice but to talk.

"I'm not being weird," he tells her.

"Well you just waited several minutes to answer a question, which is kind of weird."

"Stop acting like we're friends. You rejected me, twice. We're not friends. We're enemies."

"How did I reject you twice?" she asks, sounding both genuinely confused and annoyed.

Fury flares to life in his guts and has his body whipping back around and his mouth moving before his mind can catch up, again. "I told you you could still come back! You--"

"That was not me rejecting you!" she rebuts. "It's not my fault that--that--we blinked out, or whatever you want to call it when the connection breaks."

"Oh," he sneers, "so you were going to say, _Sure, Kylo, I realized I made a mistake. Where are you headed? I'll meet you there?_ "

"Of course not," she scoffs. "But I… I was going to…to..."

She sighs and leans back, so she's lying down, her fingers twined behind her head. She stares up at the ceiling, or maybe it's stars on her end, or maybe it's a bright sky, who knows. He feels like it must be night though… Something in the way she talks, soft and quiet, the way people only talk at night.

"You were going to what?" He asks. He knows his voice sounds harsh. It's on purpose. If he's harsh, she won't know that inside he feels uncomfortably soft.

"I guess… I don't know. But I wanted to talk to you about… stuff."

"About stuff?" he scoffs now. "What, like we were going to trade information about our favorite foods and the last book we read?"

Her lips twist a into a surprisingly sardonic smile. "Maybe something like that. You know, it's not like… When you made your offer after… well, the first time... It's not like it was very specific. And you didn't really give me the chance to ask questions."

He blinks at her incredulously. "I never told you you couldn't ask questions."

Her eyes slide to meet his. “There wasn’t time. I needed to save my friends. And it was pretty clear you weren't in discussion mode." Then she sighs and her eyes are back on the ceiling. "Although, in all fairness, I wasn't in an asking mode. I think I was in shock."

He looks down at her, stretched out and practically naked on his bed. He wants to lie down next to her. But that want is a warning. A reminder of what she's really doing.

"Stop trying to manipulate me," he demands, standing up and swiftly walking to the other side of the room.

She rolls onto her side, propping her head on her hand. The limited light of the room catches the the curve of her hip and the dip of her waist… One of her knees falls over the other… He takes a very deep breath and turns around, not facing her.

"By pointing out that your offer was unclear and really on the spot? That's not manipulating you. That's point out facts that are totally relevant to this conversation."

"That's not what I meant," he sneers.

"Well, I have no idea what you meant then," she says, soft but incredulous. "I mean… I'm not even… I don't even know how I could manipulate you. I don't have anything you want or anything to threaten you with. Even if I could, I wouldn't. I thought you knew that…"

She sighs, and her voice grows heavy and… maybe sad. "Then again, obviously I've thought a lot of things that turned out to be wrong."

He's stupid enough to glance over her shoulder just as she twists again, so that now, her back is to him, and he sees the dip from her ribs to her waist, and the upward curve to her hips and the round slopes of her--

 _Just stop talking to her,_ he thinks. _Just stop._

It's good advice. He should listen to himself. Instead he half whispers, half growls, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…" She sighs, shifting her leg forward--now he can see the lines where--God. "It means, how do I know _you're_ not just manipulating _me_?"

"Manipulating you into what?" He responds, incredulity sweeping over him again, a welcome distraction from the slopes of her flesh.

"Thinking you're still--that part of you still wants to be good."

"Wants to be good?" he echoes scornfully, his eyes now securely fastened to the chrono on his wall. "How old are you, twelve?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she retorts, and he can't tell if she's mocking him or not, which is more frustrating than knowing if she is. But he can tell, even just peripherally, that's she's flipped onto her back again, displaying her smooth stomach--Why can't she stop moving?

"Good is a perception," he fires back, turning his back to her once more. "You think you're on the _good_ side because you've been told that you are. I have seen both sides and my decisions are informed, not based on fairytale notions of absolute right and wrong, good and evil. War always has casualties and the outcome is never perfect. But that doesn't make war _wrong_ and it doesn't make either side _right_ or _good._ "

She is quiet. The silence feels strange. He expected instant outbursts and denials. He turns around, to see if she is finally gone… But she's still there, and now she's twisted around again, so she's facing him. Her eyes are hard and fierce, but they are not closed off.

He holds her gaze and tries to keep steady and rational. He tries to be only his mind right now, and not a heart beating ever louder. He tries to not be a man looking into the eyes of a beautiful woman who might just understand him.

Her chest rises and falls and as she exhales her quizzical brow furrows further and her lips part to make way for words.

He blinks.

She's gone.

He grabs the first thing his hand collides with and hurls it at the wall.

He _hates_ the fucking Force.

\-- 

R2D2 whirs into the room, chipper as ever. Rey smiles at him, always at ease around bots.

“Ready to read, Artoo?” She asks, closing the door behind him, before flopping on her floor.

Artoo beeps succicently, never a time waster, and stations himself beside her expectantly.

She grabs the text at the very top of the pile because she has no idea where to start, and opens it for him. He scans it, silent and wise. She keeps flipping pages, one after the other, letting him take it all in. Then, he gives her a quick little _meep,_ and she knows to wait.

“What does it remind you of?” She asks.

He is silent for a second. She knows droids sometimes need a little extra time to translate their data into human words, so she waits. However, his answer comes in the form of a hollow.  
  
A little boy’s face appears. He is no older than nine, with sandy-blond hair, a dirt covered face, and blue eyes that swim with the same kinds of knowledge Rey herself knows-- _hunger, fear, self-preservation._ This boy has had to survive.

His little hands tinker with a part--she’s not sure what it goes too, some sort of landspeeder, maybe, but probably a really old one. His lips are curved into a serious frown that is familiar to her. She can’t place it though.

“Who is he?” She asks R2.

R2, simply continues the projection. So she keeps watching.

A woman comes into the frame. She is dirty as well. Dark haired, and very slim. She too knows starvation. 

“Mom,” The boy says, “I’m almost done--I just need to--”  
  
“You were almost done an hour ago Ani. Today is a big day, and you know how much it matters that--”  
  
“--that I win.”  
  
“That you’re at the top of your game, so you’ll be okay.” She seriously tells him, her dark eyes smoldering with a desperation that Rey has seen in someone else’s eyes. “I need you to be okay.”  
  
“Of course I’m going to be okay,” he proudly reassures her. “I’m going to be a Jedi.”  
  
The woman’s chin wabbles, and the torrent of emotions that shoot across her face suggest she’s lost some sort of internal battle. She pulls the boy away from his tinkering and into her arms, crushing him to her chest fiercly. It takes a minute, but the little boy wraps his arms around her waste and hugs her back, an almost indulgent sort of pout on his lips--like he’s so used to the affection.

Rey’s throat clenches and swells and she feels pressure in the ducts under her eyes.

This mother and child, obviously as dirty and poor as she’d always been, by the looks of their hair and clothes and skin, just as soaked in sun and sand too--they loved each other. This little boy’s mother loved him. She stayed and was poor and starving with her child. She’d never left him. Rey would have given anything for even that, for absolutely nothing at all to have changed but to have a mother.

“Artoo,” Rey interrupts, trying to be polite and level, and not reveal the knot in her throat, “I’m not sure what this has to do with the Jedi texts.”

_Long beep. Little whir. Sharp meep._

Rey frowns, “ _He_ was too old to become a Jedi? But he’s so little.”

_Meep meep. Beeeeeep. Verwweeer. Beep beep beep. Verwer._

“No,” Rey shakes her head. “I--After the meeting, I want to know more.”

\--

"We've been here for two weeks!" Poe Dameron emphatically reminds General Organa, and everyone else clustered in the meeting lodge. "We need to be finding allies. When the First Order gets here they're going to--"

"The First Order doesn't know we're here, otherwise we'd have heard from them by now," General Organa firmly responds. "If they do find us, this planet's proximity to the black hole will provide a great deal of protection--anything bigger than the Falcon would have been sucked in to it. This planet is practically a miracle, and telling me its location was Luke's last gift to us. We would be stupid to give it up now."

"The black hole is also the reason we can't get any of our communications out! We need allies! We need to regroup! We need--"

"Raw materials and intelligence," General Organa interrupts, her lips quirking up fondly.

The way General Organa patiently puts up with Poe makes Rey smile. She doesn't know why. It just… she just really likes General Organa.

"This planet has raw materials. We can send out very small groups to gather intelligence and contact our allies. Our mission right now is to rebuild, not to fight."

Poe's intense brow furrows and his fists clench, but he nods respectfully nonetheless.

"Many millennia ago this planet was occupied by an an intelligent civilization. They had mining practices. Let's find their mines so we have a better idea of what materials we will have to work with."

She presses a button and a holo showing the whole planet pops up. She points at a little spot on the map, surrounded by rivers on one side and mountains on the other. "This is where we are," she says. "We will send three pairs to scout one hundred miles north, south and west. To the east, is ocean. We will wait to investigate that."

Glances of excitement are exchanged--everyone just wants something to do. Rey bites her bottom lip, filled with trepidation, even though she doesn't know why.

"Thano and Dol, you will take the south. Sel and Liagri, the north. Wurth and Varina the west. Salth, Raxle and De'el, you're in charge of getting their ground cruisers, weapons and survival supplies ready. You will depart at sunrise tomorrow."

Each person she's addressed solemnly solutes her.

"Poe, Finn, remain with me. Everyone else is dismissed."

Rey's eyes meet Finn's. He obviously has no idea what this is about, but he nods to her.

General Organa meets her eyes as well, and smiles kindly. "We'll talk later," she quietly tells Rey. Rey nods back and then leaves, not wanting to waste anyone's time.

She thinks of finding R2D2 again, to pick up with where they left off. She wonders if this is his only way of helping with the text, or more importantly the light saber, is to show her what he knows of the Jedi from his logs. She finds that she both wants to know more about the little boy, and is filled with trepidation at the thought. Knowledge is a scary thing. It can change you in ways that can’t be unchanged.

Now that the small remains of the Resistance has had time to settle, to discover that they're not under immediate threat of battle, starvation, or dehydration, her mind has had room to think about other things. The most important of which, is that she still hasn't figured out her place in all this. Since the minute she met Finn she's been running or fighting or… or talking to Ben. Those can't be the only three things she's meant to do in all this.

That little boy, Ani, had been so confident that he’d become a Jedi. He didn’t seem to be in conflict with it at all, at least not in that one holo. She wishes she felt that confidence--and she should, shouldn’t she? Shouldn’t it be obvious to her, down to her bones, that obviously she’s supposed to be a Jedi?  
  
But that feeling leaves her hollow. It’s not wrong. It’s just missing something that feels heavy and real. It’s… It’s not wrong, but it’s not right.

Instead of finding R2 she walks straight through the camp and into the jungle. Her mind is already too full. She will learn about the boy and his mother later. She's got to figure out what to do next.

\--

"First off," Leia begins, smiling kindly at Finn, "I am sorry that up until now things have been so chaotic and I have not yet had a chance to properly thank you for all you've done for the Resistance." 

"Oh, it's, uh, it's no problem General. Thank you. I mean, yeah, thank you." Finn stammers and blushes. He's never been singled out in a good way before. Certainly never treated kindly by a General.

"I trust that if you intended to leave us, you would have by now?" She gives him a knowing little smile. 

"Uh, yes, General. I mean, I'd like to stay, if that is what you're asking? Or offering?" 

"It is, Ensign Finn." 

He salutes, because, well, because that is what one does with Generals. 

She chuckles softly at him and nods. It makes him want to fight for her. He never felt that way about the First Order. He wonders if the other Stormtroopers would side with General Organa if they only got to feel the warmth of her confidence. 

"Now, Commander Dameron," she continues, quickly scrolling and zooming in on her holo map. "We need to make sure we can send and receive transmissions throughout the Galaxy."

She points to the planet that is closest to them. It is further from the center of the galaxy, technically, but also further from the black hole.

"This is Xesse VI. It is freezing, uninhabited, and of little interest to anyone. It is also well positioned to set up communication satellites with minimal interference for transmissions between us and both Ploo and Vanquo, where there are important allies to the Resistance."

"And I get to go set up the satellites?" Poe asks, hardly able to contain his excitement at the thought of action. 

"You do," General Organa fondly nods. "Ensign Finn, I would like you to accompany Commander Dameron. We need to get in and get out as fast as possible. However… this mission is very dangerous. The planet is not hospitable. We only have one ship. If something goes wrong, we will not be able to help you. You could be stranded. You could freeze to death or starve to death. Do you understand?” 

"Wouldn't be exciting if the stakes weren't life or death, General," Poe easily retorts. 

General Organa rolls her eyes at him for the millionth time. 

"What about you, Ensign Finn? Are you willing to accept that level of risk?"

Finn takes a long deep breath. He really doesn't like the idea of freezing to death. Or starving to death. But he remembers the look in Rey's eyes when they first met and she thought he was a hero. And the way Rose thought he was a hero. He knows he wants to be that person--the person they saw as a hero. 

So, he nods solemnly. 

General Organa smiles at him, like she's proud of him. Like she sees a hero too. 

"We will have our receivers up, here on Ka’Muth, by the time you arrive on Xesse VI," the general tells them. "The frequencies have already been programmed. Can you both be ready to leave by nightfall?"

Poe and Finn look at each other. The mischief in Poe's eyes helps stir adventure in Finn, like nothing else ever could. That feeling stills the fear. Soon, he too is grinning, despite his better senses telling him to be terrified and run for the hills. 

"Yes, ma'am," Poe answers her.

"Good," Leia solemnly nods. "May the Force be with you."

 

\--

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update! My almost 3-year-old got a really stomach/intestine virus and... let's just say it has not been a pretty week. Or a week that has involved much sleep. But we all persevered and I got pro at making chicken stock from scratch!
> 
> Thank you to Ntantzen and Poppi_Willow for their amazing beta reading work. This chapter, really needed it! And, thank you to RileyBabe for this awesome new moodboard, which, I feel, totally captures the core of this fic. 
> 
> Also, seriously, and sincerely, thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments. It makes my heart swell and my belly get that warm fuzzy jello-marshmallow casserole jiggle. There is so much love in the Reylo community, and I feel so grateful to all the amazing people who make up this little microcosm. I love and appreciate you all!


	5. A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey gets her first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly flattered and humbled by those who have read, commented, bookmarked, and left kudos.  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I will definitely update as soon as possible. <3

The pull. The shift in gravity. The straight line from him to her… As much as he means to dread these meetings, all he feels is thrill trickle through him. He hates himself for it, but he hates himself for most everything, so it's nothing special. 

This time, when she comes to him she is just sitting, cross-legged and peaceful. The way the light falls across her lovely bones and freckles and eyelashes tells him that, wherever she is, the sun is high and bright. Not for him. For him it is the darkest part of night.

He gets to watch her face for a fraction of a second before her eyes burst open and her hazel gaze ascends to meet his. He never knows what look he will find in them, but he always knows that he will get to see; no matter how hard they've tried, they always end up looking at each other.

"I was meditating, about to train," she simply says. A touch annoyed, but at peace with it. She's so good at being at peace with whatever reality hands her. It's frustrating.

"Go ahead," he quietly tells her.

"Spar with me?" she sighs, as if exasperated that even though they're sort of in each other's heads, she still has to actually ask.

"Can we?" he asks, thinking of the first time, when she tried to shoot him--it had stung, but it didn't pierce his flesh.

"I don't know," she shrugs. "At least when we both choose to we can touch… So if we both want to, maybe we can."

He almost objects on the grounds that he doesn't want to hurt her. But he doesn't. Because he doesn't want her to know he doesn't want to hurt her. Plus, he is curious about her theory. Curious about how this thing between them works. It seems stupid to pass up the opportunity to gather data.

"Fine," he concedes, standing up.

He turns his back to her, exits his sleep quarters, and heads for the sparring deck.

He can feel her watching him twisting through the corridors, pausing here or there for doors. He can't feel the way she is watching him though--is she just passively waiting? Or is she _looking_ at him? He's always looking at her.

The sparring deck is empty, as it ought to be at this hour. He enters his private room and takes his robes and his shirt off out of habit. He doesn't turn to see the way she's looking at him… But he doesn't have to.

He can feel her fluster and resist. He likes it. He likes that his body affects her. It is at least one tiny scrap of power in his corner… Even if it is practically nothing compared to the mountain in hers.

He unceremoniously picks up a metal training sword to match her staff, and finally faces her. She stands ready—shoulders back, head high, feet spread, body balanced. They don't need to waste time talking. She just charges.

Maybe this is their way of talking.

He's not worried, he cannot feel any intent to actually do harm in her. He wonders if she even could? Only if both of them conceded to it he suspects, like they both conceded to experiencing the feeling of each other's fingertips.

The speed with which she moves, the quick spins and turns and jabs, are emotional; but her feelings are not in conflict. They are sure. It's like she's simply declaring,  _I'm mad at you._

He spins and twirls, almost courteously blocking her, and in doing so he's simply asking-- _Why?_

She pushes out from under and comes at him from the left. He ducks low and swings around hard.

She jumps back, her stomach mere inches away from the tip of his blade. She runs and flips her whole body around, over, over, over, and comes down, her staff landing on top of his sword. Then, like--well, like they can read each other's minds--she answers, "You gave up--you--you made your choice. And you chose to rule over a bunch of planets someone else enslaved."

"As always, your words reveal how deep your ignorance is," he coldly informs her, holding his ground, matching his strength to hers, but not seeking to overpower her. "You don't know what the mission of the First Order is. You don't know anything about why the Resistance is fighting us. You're just a girl from nowhere who's spent her life scavenging. You know nothing about the greater reality and workings of the galaxy."

She twists beautifully and their weapons clash.

"I know that enslaving others is wrong," she passionately spits back, so sure of herself.

"Subjugation and slavery are not the same thing."

"Forcing your will on others--" She is interrupted, left straining as he pushes her back now, using his superior height and physical strength, to force her staff down.

How quickly they come back to this pose every time--face to face, so close he could kiss her if there weren't his sword and her staff, cold and metal and unmoving, crossed between them.

"Someone's will is always being forced!" he growls through gritted teeth. "There is always someone--some faction or organization with power over others. If the Resistance wins then they will place their own members in the seats of power left open by the destruction of the First Order--they will be enforcing their will just the same as any other organization would. You're just blindly fighting, you haven't thought anything through!"

She sucks in a deep breath. He hears the whistle through her teeth. Her eyes flutter closed. She's trying to block him out again, but it never works. She is powerful--so so powerful, like him. But, also like him, she is not powerful enough to control this bond between them. They're stuck with each other.

"Why are you really angry, Rey?" he asks her, feeling bizarrely calm. This sort of calm always happens to him when she gets angry. Like she sucks it all up and there's none left for him.

"I told you--I'm angry at _you,_ " she snarls.

"Why?" he asks, sliding his feet closer to hers. Fighting with her, feeling the push and pull, the attraction and the repulsion, and the endless energy circuit it generates. It is addicting. Everything else feels dead next to this.

"I'm the one with the right to be mad at you. You betrayed me. So why are you mad, Rey?"

She does not answer. She closes her eyes and focuses… She doesn't realize what it means that she does this. But he does. Even in her anger, she trusts him. Even though she can't admit it, in these moments, she is letting him teach her.

"You're using your anger," he softly tells her, barely above a whisper. "You can feel how much strength it gives you--to hate me."

"Shut up!" She snarls, pushing back against him. He holds firm, but it is harder and harder. Her anger is so very powerful.

He feels all the potential realities weave around them, all the while remembering that technically, none of this is real. Technically they cannot harm each other, with anything but words. …He thinks.

Within the span of a single breath he drops his sword to the ground, spins one foot out, shifting his weight so he ducks beneath her elbow, catches the sword and stands. His left hand grabs her under her chin. His right hand holds the sword, not even an inch from the soft skin of her throat.

She gasps and stills. He presses his stomach to her back. She tries to move her hips forward, take her body from his, but in doing so she just presses her head further back, against his chest, where the nape of her neck fits into the curve of his clavicle, the top of her head, right under his chin.

He cranes his head down, and breathes through her hair. She smells like salt water. He doesn't know if this is real or an illusion, but, of course, he could never forget her visit to the hot springs. Perhaps it is real.

He is caught off guard by an instinct to lick her neck all the way up. To taste her sweat and skin. The desire pulls through the core of him and he resists it. He is as frightened of it as he is intrigued by it… By all the impulses like it, even as he is starting to open to the truth they are pointing at.

"Rey," he whispers. "Do you really believe we could ever get away from each other? Space and time have parted to make way for us to be together. This is the will of the Force. The Jedi way is to flow with the Force… But every time you try to deny me, to deny this connection, you are resisting the Force. You're not doing very good at being the last Jedi, are you?"

She leans back into him for the briefest of moments. Her spine curves to the contours of his abs, her ass presses into his groin. He gasps now, consciously digging his heels in to support her shifting weight.

She twists her face and he lets his fingers loose along her neck. He feels how soft her skin is, how her warm veins pulse underneath vulnerable flesh. She feels his calloused fingers, the scruff of his jaw against her forehead as she tilts her chin up. His warm breath tickles her hair and hers tickles his chin.

The friction of their bodies, just from her simple turn is enough to rewire his entire brain. Her palm falls flat on his chest, her fingertips land on the shelf of his collarbone. He leans forward, his eyes on her lips--

And then, she pushes back.

He watches as her neck slides through his metal sword—she falls to the ground, clutching her throat, coughing desperately. He drops to his knees next to her--

"Why did you do that?" he furiously demands, instinctively reaching out, grasping her by the shoulders--he wants to shake her and to clutch her to him in equal measure.

She manages to look up at him. Anger burns in her eyes. Her nose twitches, threatening a snarl. "You could have come with me. It’s your fault we’re both still alo--"

And then she's gone. He's back in his room--all slick metals, the cold empty hum of space, the steady buzz of the air filtration system circulating through the walls.

_What was she going to say?_

He is Supreme Leader now. He has a bunch of very important things he is supposed to be thinking about. He has worlds to make and end, literally. But all he really cares about is knowing what she was going to say.

So much for not letting her be a priority.

—

  
Rey, is left standing in the jungle, thinking about the way his fingers and breath and the press of his body felt . It takes her several minutes of staring at nothing to realize what it means that she felt him. It means she consented to feel him. She _wanted_ to feel him.

She shakes her head and starts walking. She stomps through the jungle, as if putting space between her and the place she was standing when Kylo's lips were in her hair, can take away all the sensations it stirred to life in her. No matter how far and how hard she walks though, her shoulders tingle with the memory of his fingertips. But maybe it's nothing at all. Maybe he's just electric. 

It's not just his touches though, or the way it made her whole body quiver to be pressed against his, or the heat and adrenaline his grasp on her jaw generated in the pit of her belly… His words are bothering her too.

He’s right. She hasn't ever thought about what it was the First Order sees their mission as. She doesn't need to though--everyone knows it’s bad.

After all, only bad, selfish people try to take over other worlds. It… it’s not complicated. Except, now that he's gone and pointed it out, it feels like maybe it’s just a little more complicated. And...

_Do you really believe we could ever get away from each other?_

She can’t shake that part of their conversation, because it's not about anyone's thoughts or ideas. There was no argument to be had about it. No, he was wrong, she was right, or vice versa. No opinions. Just one, single, undeniable fact: The Force keeps connecting them, no matter how either of them felt about it.

What if it did last their _whole_ lives? What if she was eighty years old, going about life, with Ben Solo still in her head? What if she literally could _never_ get away from him and, in a sense, had no choice but to kill him, or spend her whole life with him. But why would the Force do that to her? Why would it stick them together, forever? She'd spent her whole life wishing she wasn't so alone... But this is not exactly what she meant all those times she'd wished for someone who would never leave her.

By the time Rey gets back to camp it the sun is setting, but there is a frenzied buzz of activity in the air. People running around, getting the few ground cruisers they have ready for the explorations Leia ordered earlier, it seems.

She winds through the busy center of the village, running her fingers along the walls of the open-air aqueducts as she goes. It still baffles her to see so much fresh water, just flowing freely, as if it is not the most valuable substance in the entire Galaxy.

Then, through the bustle, she catches site of Poe and Finn. They're all dressed up in flight suits, holding helmets, walking away from the village, down a path that has only one destination: The Falcon, which is nestled several furlongs away, hidden in the canopy. _They're going off-planet?_

She quickly breaks into a jog to catch up with them, but doesn't shout--she doesn't want to draw attention. When she reaches them she taps Finn on the shoulder, and then slows to match their pace. "What's happening?" 

"General Organa gave us an off planet mission," Poe grins.

"So you're just leaving?" She looks between the two of them, "Without saying goodbye?"

"I wanted to," Finn immediately apologizes. "It all just happened real fast and I thought you were still out in the jungle--I'm--I'm glad you're here though."

"I was," she concedes, stepping back. She's spent enough time being _close_ to people today.

"Poe, go ahead," Finn says, "I'll fill Rey in and then catch up to you."

"Alright," Poe nods, his excited feet already carrying him to the Falcon.

Behind them C3PO is coming, fretting over the alleged carelessness of loading droid, who is tugging what appear to be food rations along.

Rey steps to the side, closer to the trees, but not inside of them. Finn follows her. "So," he begins gushing with excitement, "General Organa made me an official Ensign and then immediately trusted me and Poe with probably the most important, and dangerous mission, that the Resistance has right now..."

\--

Rose is sick of being in bed. She's been in bed for weeks. She's been allowed to putter around the healing hut, as it's been dubbed, but every time she tries to leave the Med droid literally sounds the alarm. Right now though, the Med droid is distracted tending to Thano, who stupidly mangled his hand while getting ready for some mission he's supposed to go on tomorrow.

Rose tip-toes as close to the walls of the hut as possible, avoiding the Droid's sensors. She can barely believe it when she slips free. The fresh air feels so good on her face, that she doesn't care about the chill it brings with it, or even the looks she might get for being out in pajamas.

People are everywhere--obviously something is happening. She sees some fellow mechanics, and supply crates being shuffled about all in the midst of this ancient village made out of red and yellow clays. She hears the rush of water in the distance, and sees all the green of the trees in every direction she looks. This place seems like a miracle.

She picks a direction and starts walking. The bones in her back ache from the movement, but she's pretty sure that's due to lack of use, more than to whatever injuries she sustained. She uses the waist-high aqueducts to help her along her way, whatever way that is.

"Rose!" She hears her name, from a startled familiar voice, and turns her head in its direction. Lieutenant Connix has stopped, apparently rather abruptly, her arms full with something wrapped in shiny foil.

"Lieutenant," Rose grins as the other woman weaves away from the main roadway to greet her.

"I didn't know you were clear to leave sick bay," Connix says. "When are you coming back to duty?"

"Uhh," Rose sheepishly smiles, "Not sure yet. Never, if that Med droid has its way. What's happening?"

"General Organa has ordered scouting missions. Apparently there are some ancient mines on this planet that could yield raw materials for us to rebuild from. It will take a long time, but we might be able build a whole unit of mining and mech droids, and from there, a whole squadron of fighters."

"Wow," Rose whistles. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"It all just started this afternoon. Finn didn't tell you?" Connix asks, genuinely confused. "You know pretty much every day you were unconscious he went and visited you."

Rose's heart skips a beat, and blood rushes to her cheeks. She can't help the happy grin that spreads so wide it makes her ears pop. Connix gives her a knowing look, and this just makes Rose blush more.  

"Do you know where he is?" she asks, sort of kicking herself for being so obvious… But at the same time, she's so buoyed with this unexpected happy tingly feeling that she just can't help it.

Connix points to the north, up a path that leads toward the jungle. The sun is setting in that direction, and all she can see is silhouettes, including one that could definitely be Finn, though it's impossible to say for sure from this distance.

"He and Poe are going on a secret mission," Connix tells her. "No one knows what it is except the two of them. They haven't left yet though."

"Thanks Lieutenant," Rose very sincerely says.

Connix nods and jumps back to duty, heading the opposite direction. Rose makes her way toward the setting sun, her heart pounding and her stomach bubbling. _He visited you every day._

\--

"Be safe," Rey firmly tells Finn, once he's finished relaying to her everything General Organa told him and Poe. She sort of wishes she could go with them, just for a change of routine… But the Jedi texts niggle in the back of her mind. It's clear to her that, whatever other roles in all this she is meant to play, mastering the Force is the most important one… After all, she's the _only one_ who can do that part.

"I will," Finn tells her, the excitement suddenly gone from his voice, replaced by a seriousness.

He steps closer to her. Rey almost steps backward, but stops herself--maybe he's got something else to tell her that is even more secret than setting up covert communications satellites?

She looks around, as if someone could be listening and then whispers, "What is it?"

"It's just--The last time. I mean, I know what it's like to know you're out there somewhere and I can't help you... And General Organa said that we're on our own out there. And she's right. And if I'm going--if I don't come back from this mission--"

Finn firmly steps even closer, so fast that it triggers Rey's reflex to go for her staff--but this if Finn, who she trusts to not attack her, so she quells the instinct. _He's hugging you,_ she reprimands herself. Except, then a big warm palm lands on her cheek and he half presses, half pulls, his their lips together. 

_Nope. He’s kissing me._

 

\--

Rose watches from about twenty feet away as the beautiful silhouette of Finn leans in to kiss the small female silhouette of Rey.

As high as her heart soared, now it comes crashing down, fast and violent. Her vocal cords, her lungs, her esophagus they all go dry. She hopes they'll just keep collapsing. That she will simply collapse into a pile of dust.

She feels stupid all of a sudden. How could she have thought Finn felt that way about her? She should have known...

She _did_ know. She knew that the whole time they were on Canto Bight and even after they infiltrated the Order, that Finn was always talking about Rey and how he had to get back to her. Why was she dumb enough to let herself think that everything that had happened between them--that her nearly dying to save his life--that any of it mattered to him?

After an eternity, Finn steps away from Rey.

Rose knows they're saying something although she can't hear it--which is worse than hearing it. It lets her imagination fill in the words as their lips move. She's just torturing herself. Then Finn leans back in. This kiss is quicker, just on the cheek, but, still feels like an extra stab in her already bleeding gut.

Then Finn heads off into the sunset--straight-backed and proud--a war hero off to do battle… But he is not _her_ hero. He will not be coming back to _her_. He will be coming back to Rey. He will be Rey’s hero. Rey, who-

\--Who has now turned and is making her way back toward the camp.

Rose moves as fast as she can around the edge of the nearest building. She absolutely does not want Rey to see her. Nor does she want to acknowledge that she is crying... Because she is. And she's not sure how to stop.

—

General Hux makes for his quarters with haste. Luckily the petulant whiny bully he's temporarily beholden to is off enjoying his own company somewhere. Still, it is not until he is inside, and has thoroughly reinspected his room for spying equipment, that he opens the paper file folded up in his pocket.

_Acquisition successful. To be delivered 11.25. Ration BXX 83A._

Hux allows himself the feeling of one full, victorious smile spreading through his body.

This is only a tiny victory, though. One of a million he will need to reach the ultimate goal. The only appropriate reaction to such a victory, as he learned from his father, is to keep moving forward with the bigger plan. So he calms down, steals his heart, burns the paper file, and returns to duty.

 

\--

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost added "This will not go the way you think," to the chapter summary... But I'm so tempted to use that line all over the place that I had to practice self-restraint, just to prove I could.


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